The color of autumn- our equinox

It is always in the preparation that ritual begins. Shopping lists and gathering of flower petals and standing on the earth contemplating balance.

This day we were to celebrate at Elizabeth’s house, which though it means travel (a challenge especially to my home-body son), it means less cleaning and clearing. But of course getting out of the house is harder, one more bunch of flowers, one more packet of dried grasses, one more offering.
Driving down the roads of this beautiful place that we live I was struck by this particular light of September. Before the leaves become ablaze with color they have a tint, a hue of brown –yellow or orange-gold and with the angle of the equinox sun path there is a cast of light that is only in September. It is the back to school light, the new notebooks light, the light of the side yard from the memory of the month when the boy was newborn and we sat in bed and watched that autumn light – brilliant but not hot, cool but not icy. The sky is so blue and clear but deep with the knowledge of the oncoming winter. By October everything is reds and oranges and bright yellows and deep browns, and by November the color is windswept and barren and brown and grey, but now it is deep golden like the taste of an apple.

So we arrive at Elizabeth’s, down crazy winding roads (we are always amazed by the variety of neighborhoods all over this county), dogs a-barking, hugs and acorns. Lots of acorns, to roll up with the cool acorn sweeper- a whole tub full in no time at all. Bryan and Ted talk chain saw and fire wood while the neighbor cuts down a tree. We talk harvest (or lack thereof). Amber arrives with cookies which we need to sample with real good tea and magic talk- the interconnecting circles of what makes this magic- unity and awareness and personal knowledge and more. But noon passes and let’s get it together, the present is here and the future of other commitments comes too swiftly. We are here to honor the Gods who give meaning to this life.

Processing down the stone steps and wood staircase leading to the fire by the pond with the koi and the flat lands backed by the rock cliffs of Elizabeth & Ted’s lower property. Hudson always loves the hand pump, kids have to pump the water – it is like a magnet every time we are there. Birds are always singing there. The sun shines brightly and it is hot, yes noon is direct and socks and sweaters come off.

Elizabeth builds a fire and Bryan lights sweet grass from our garden and goes around the circle with the smoke clearing and creating space. I offer petals from every type of the many flowers growing in my garden to the Earth Mother, starting in the east and walking around the circle -2 whole times around before the petals are all used. It has been a good flower year.
We all settle down- feeling comfortable on our Mother, feeling her solid supporting us, letting us balance our weight comfortably on her- Elizabeth and Ted in the East, Bryan in the South, Amber in the West, me in the North and Hudson in the shade.
We feel the darkness of the earth below and the brightness of the sky above. We look up to the sky-shining blue with blinding sun streaming into us and touch the solid deepness of the dark cool earth below us rising up into us and feel these energies mix within us. Breathing in and out and feeling this hot shining sun and this cool dark earth; the fire is small but it is in the center and it is a gate. Calling upon Mannanan Mac Lier, walker of the ways between the worlds, gatekeeper; offering magic potion of syrup from a bottle corked with a branch and strands of sweet grass; and opening the gates. Though there were trees and a large pond we focused on only this one gate- this central fire.

I was struck by the silence of this ritual, only Bryan talked (except for our individual praise offerings); no one offered responses (“let the gates be open” etc.)only birds replied to all his words. This has happened at rituals here before, the birds – many different ones- talk at different times and participate.
Making offerings to the outsiders, just past Hudson in the hedgerow- boundaries defined by potion. Bryan called upon Bridget, grove matron and Goddess of eloquence: asking for our words to be true, our thoughts communicated and our voices heard. More magic syrup and the rest of the sweet grass. Elizabeth’s fire always burns.
Most Honored Dead, our teachers and families and friends- it seems there has been lots of passings lately (a reminder of the coming of Samhain)-so many people to honor- the burning of rose petals, so quickly consumed and faintly fragrant and just a bit of syrup. All these respected people- remembered because of what they have left behind, what they have shared with us, what we carry of them inside us today.
The Spirits of Nature, of this place, where we are now, this land we live on, the insects and birds, all the creatures and the rocks, the grasses and trees- sacrifice of rose petals and barely a drop of the potion falls.
Gods and Goddesses, all of them –who are yours- the eclectic pantheon of the modern age- Kaun Yin and the Celtic River Gods from Elizabeth’s bathroom wall, the Green man with his autumn face, the Moon Grandmother, Mercury, and the grey bearded old man of my grandmother’s God. Everyone appreciates rose petals.
This season of Fall, the harvest and this balance of equinox, silence and presence- lots of magic syrup suddenly pours out with the rest of the roses.
Elizabeth offers gratitude for the easing of the rain, purple asters and small pumpkin and tomatoes – especially rare in this season of scant harvest. She offers a story of her dog Grace waiting for her in the driveway, out of the fence for who knows how long, with dog tags pulled but not choked, safely escaped- and in doggie gratitude burns old dog toys. And finally a basket that has seen many harvests, many gathering of beans and more, catching circular fire and burning through holes.
I offer sage for this year of many things and a full sunflower head, not yet eaten by birds, intact with its mesmerizing helix of seeds in deep gratitude for the many flowers, and, looking forward to new seeds for next year and for next year’s harvest to come. I offer a new pink rose for the deep beauty all around us. And I place a dollar to burn in the fire in gratitude for having a roof over our heads and for the bills to once again be paid and for the balance and sustainability without fear of money in our lives.

And as Elizabeth says: The amphibians joined us for ritual! Before I built the fire, a wee Leopard Frog hopped across the fire pit. The tiny Red Eft was a nice guest, isn't there some association between fire and Salamanders? I was thinking the ritual fire smoke was beguiling. The wind kept changing directions and it kept spiralling, slowly, counter clockwise, and it swirled around Bryan because it was happy to find him there. It wreathed around Bryan and smudged us all, and never stopped changing direction. Lively! The offerings were sweet and generous. There is a Birch clump very close to the fire pit, and one of the omens was for the Birch. That is Bridget's tree and also my birth month tree..a tree I hang offerings on.That spot near the little footbridge is where I have long thought that the Sidhe/Shee hang out

Once again we are silent and Bryan places the good corn all around the edges of the fire. He slowly builds the fire up as our offerings burn and then he pulls our omens.
From the Ancestors – Daguz- day, vantage point, noon
From the Spirits – Wunjo – Joy
From the Gods & Goddesses – Berkana – beginning
And for the season- Kinwaz- the torch

He also, for the first time in our ritual, pulls an Ogham (a stick from the Celtic tree oracle) and it is Oak. – well of course- it is the druid tree and a symbol of standing up straight and also associated with royalty- but let’s not forget all those acorns.

Are we ready to take in those waters of life? What is it that we know of the continuum of life – the waters of life and from whence do they come? Elizabeth & I look at each other and say together- from the bosom of the Earth Mother! The ever changing all mother. She brings out this incredible round blue glass pitcher which sparkles with the sun and Bryan holds it up –it looks bigger than him, like a big shining blue sun. Bless these waters; give us comfort, Knowledge & blessing.

The water is usually cold but this was sun-temperature and autumn flavored. I drank deeply, it seemed like there was an abundance of water.

Ah, giving thanks. There was more food, bits from our whole feast to be, given in gratitude. And then a container of Elizabeth’s cyser, that seemed never ending, as thanks to all of the Kindred and seasonal gods and Bridget and Mananan and the Earth Mother. The birds sang. We processed back to the house.

We feasted and filled Elizabeth's house with flavors. We brewed our equinox cyser of fresh pressed apple cider and pounds of honey and yeast. We did it rite, like Bryan said. You should see the bucket of Cyser! This morning I took off the lid to stir it and it had a layer of foamy suds on top that looked like a bubble bath. It is happy and churning away, and smells so delicious. It is definitely ALIVE! Wow!

September has such an autumn feel

Leaves are starting, losing first their deep green and some already brilliant with red or orange. What a strange summer.

The garden hardly except for the flowers and tall grasses and slugs.

Some food to process if only there was the time.

Cool sunny days, finally our first whole week with no rain. The few tomatoes begin to ripen.

The equinox fast approaches. Soon it will be the last mowing and the time of piling leaves.

Autumn Equinox Celebration: Sunday September 20 Noontime

in Esopus at Elizabeth's house.

We honor the harvest, the balance, the coming season of short days, and the brewing process of life.

We will be offering a Cyser brewing workshop as part of our Equinox Ritual Celebration. Cyser is a bit like mead but made with (local) apple cider and the fermentation only takes 6 months as opposed to 2-3 years. Any of you who have been to rituals have probably tasted Elizabeth's delicious and potent brews; she has offered to share this magic with us. Depending on how many people sign up, you will get either get a full or a half gallon at the Spring Equinox (yes Spring will come again and that Cyser will, like ourselves, be ready to go because of the long winter ferment.) There will be a $10 charge for the workshop to cover materials (all local!), and the workshop will start around 2:30pm.

You can come to the ritual and stay for the workshop or come to either. Please RSVP to susan@urtharts.com .

Rain, Tired of Rain and Tired

Coming up the road
this rainy morning, a shaft
of smoke curls upward.

Making fire in the steady rain, Bryan coming in soaked, drying his shirt by the kitchen fire.

The constant rain forcing one to submit to a gentleness, a simple movement and the sense of being present. What else can you do, it is raining again.

The Art of making Sacred Space, creating a devotional focus.

How constant was the rain and also the curl of smoke from the central fire, burning and waiting.

Gathering herbs for tea, I noticed that it was barely raining.

Mint, Chamomile, Lemon Balm, Dill: some were to be hot some cooled.

The sky lightened and clouds almost lifted.

The center fire pit had a double mown ring with bands of wild wildflowers and weeds, and at the center the 5 circle firepit with smoldering logs and embers deep below. Gates are cut though the flower bands so you can pass through the concentric rings of grass. Needed more wood, more dry combustibles. I found a stick and bark and egg cartons in the studio. Bark curls and sticks burn and egg cartons flame. Having brought out more nice dry firewood, we built a spiraling tower of logs, some hand cut and some just carried.

Drinking tea and marveling at the weather we gathered.
Elizabeth, Hudson, Bryan, me and then Susan sitting inside with cherries and cookies.

The axis of Imbolc and Lughnasa, Bridget and Lugh and the light spot in the dark and the dark spot in the light.

The blinded eye and lightening and here comes the Thunder. Harvesting and preparing for winter.
Lugh and his foster mother Tliatu. Lugh like Mercury, Odin like Mercury for the Romans, and Epona and the fairs and clearing the land and horses and the County Fair and taking a chance.

Pie contests and harvest festivals and fruit and rain.
Are we ready and is it time?
Is it going to rain?

Gathering the waters, the offerings, cups and corn. Gathering ourselves.
Hudson falling on the slick deck. Awkward fussiness. Who’s on first and rushing towards where?

Being in the present and what happens when we are elsewhere in our minds.

Gonging out the broken skull, gonging silently and then finally to honor the gods who give meaning to life.

Processing to the circle, Elizabeth playing banjo.
Finding space. Where are we supposed to be?

Bryan scattering to the Earth all around the circle and to the center.
Feeling the earth. Energy rising from the earth through my feet, legs, hips, belly, heart, head and also from the sky down. Squatting like a frog on the earth, wiggly boy at my side, cracking ice and fidgeting.

Small offerings to the fire, our center- glow within us; the well, deep and full and strong- flow within us; and the tree, larger than it used to be- grow within us.

And then Mananan opening the gates and where were all our offerings? Bryan using what was at hand, corn silk or small grasses-do we have enough? My bundles of bark and sage carefully prepared could be used for welcome or thanks but not both; were we ready?

Outsiders offering offered and I remembered special outsiders offerings still in the fridge,

would they accept what we had here?

Suddenly time to honor the ancestors.

Yesterday we had spoken at great length as to who are our ancestors- not just deceased relatives-our grandparents and great grandparents- but any person who was alive and is now dead and who influenced us especially. Kissing the boy’s head, I thought about great artists and writers and those who I have studied and wished I could have known and also those of our line who have gone before.

Bryan made offerings to the Spirits of Nature- thinking about the grasses and turtles and rocks and pets and all those animals and plants and fungi thriving in this dampness, the dampness itself.

Then to the gods and goddesses (like Thor I say to Hudson) and thinking about Mercury and Lugh and Bridget and KwanYin and Odin and Zeus and Thunder and Rain.

And then the season, this season of county fairs and chance and horses and harvest and storms and being here.

The rushing stream was louder than us all, louder than all the sacrifices, than all the words, than all the thoughts, louder than the boy being silly or disinterested, louder than us.

Offering Gratitude for just being here for being present in this place now, letting go of toxicity and of what I don’t need, letting go of the past and future and racing in between both.
Flowers in flames as our sacrifices were swallowed by the fire and by the water.
Final sacrifice of last year’s dried vervain, strait like a slender tree.

All the while the stream roaring.

Our omens:
From the Ancestors: Thuriz or thorn or hammer- protection or stance of defense-either being protected by or protecting our ancestors.
From the Spirits of Nature & Place: Daguz or day, High Noon, the vantage point, seeing it all and as if from a new angle.
From the Gods & Goddesses: Uruz or the primordial ox, the urge to create, the unstoppable movement forward
For the Season: Eihwaz or the horse- the relationship or partnership between horse and rider, the County Fair!

The waters of life in the green jug hallowed with only the voice and the damp air and poured into blue cups. Were we ready for these waters?
Almost sweet tasting, the waters are always needed and always good. We had full glasses and the boy did his fake gulping. Sigh.

Thanks to all, the individual silks and husks from the corn, some for each of the season’s spirits.

All the offerings used and the rite over. Already said the boy? Let the feasting begin.

And before I could parade and dance to Elizabeth’s banjo out of the circle and back home, Bryan already had a chicken leg in his hand. The sun was almost out. The boy was sweet again like the waters.

We were here now.

Solstice 2009

Not enough coffee and too much rain.

Went to bed full of friendships and woke up to more friends.

Friends at the table and walking across the lawn. Friends coming and going. Old friends and new.

Changing groups of many.

Finally just the druids gathered for the sun which for so many days- seemingly weeks -had not shined.

Bryan, in his top hat and camouflage short coveralls, ranted about the horse and the sun and moving on and the faith in the return of the sun each day.

We put away snacks and gathered our flowers and offerings and processed behind Bryan now in full druid robes white over white through the wet grass through the woods past the red eft and the soft green moss and the giant ferns into the Nematon with a path weed whacked clear.

Focusing and centering, sitting down on the earth is always good, breathing.

The sun rises over there and sets there passing through the south and the north on the way.

Our center our well, that deep bottomless frog pit. Damp grasses and thoughtfulness.

The warmth of the sun. Fire and flowers.

Coming thru the weeds and off time, then clearing and letting go.

Shattering the horse, ten years later, releasing old wishes and joy.

Letting in new vision.

Like the hawk spiraling near the sun, glinting in the light, smiling in the centered quiet, grounded on the earth.

Omens for the season

From the Ancestors: Ingwaz- the growing seed

From the Spirits of Nature and Place: Naudhiz- Need

From the Gods and Godesses: Odul- Sacred Enclosure

For the Season: Perth- luck, the chance cup

Food and friends and more friends gathering on the longest day long into the night.

Solstice is coming

The flowers are full

and so brilliant but only
for the briefest time.

Celebrate the Summer Solstice

the longest day, the shortest night,

the pinacle of the sun as it begins to swing back toward the darkness.

Sunday June 21 noon.

Beltane Banjos And Soft Rain And Maypole Ribbons

It's all about the prep- the preparing for the season – cleaning the house and bringing plants outside. Dusting, opening windows, letting prosperity in.

Waiting for it all to begin.
A real good group - follow the leader. Hudson blowing the dandelion seed head.
Bowl of dandelions to wash to our hands and leap over the dandelion ringed fire washing away the winter yuk.
Marching dance around the fire circle.
Fun fun

Feeling really centered on the earth.
Feeling the Earth supporting my feet and legs and hips and spine and really feeling the Earth.
The wet earth, the rain, the sound of the stream.

The well, the tree and the fire.

The invisible fire very present in the light rain The radiance of the sun.
Distractions and getting it together.
People and spirits coming into the circle: well what do you know?
Remembering to let it go, to offer gratitude for the winter, challenges, things we are not necessarily comfortable with.
The drizzle of fire- do we always have birds answer us in ritual?
I can only really remember the dampness all around and a stillness among all the activity.

Time speeding up and slowing down.

Our Omens:
From the Ancestors: Thuruz- thorn or defensive or protective stance- be on guard.
From the Spirits of Nature and place: Odul- sacred enclosure, protective enclosure, the gates to hold it in.
From the Gods: Isa- ice- get things together, pulling it in.
For the Season: Fehu or fee, what does something cost?
Feeling rather oddly reversed- instead of it being an expanding and mixing it up Beltane omen it seemed a lot more of contracting and clarifying.

Drinking the cool refreshing waters.

Pulling it all together and feeling solid on the wet earth.
Coming bustling back and the hubbub.

Eating lots of salads and food. No dessert until after we dance the maypole.
Many children young and old-dancing and undancing the maypole.
Laughing and laughing and twisting up in knots.

Swinging and banjo playing.

Funny day

Thoif.

Nature's flowers - the season of blossom & bloom

Beltane Celebration!

Sunday May 3rd

afternoon ritual


Dance the Maypole!

Musical merriment!

Pot Luck Supper!

see you, let us know